My father’s spade
leaning on a box in my cluttered breezeway my father’s spade pants, grip worn smooth, tail twitching, eager for his …
leaning on a box in my cluttered breezeway my father’s spade pants, grip worn smooth, tail twitching, eager for his …
gray tree branches hover over dried-damp grass – last year’s growth – chimes ting on the steady breeze remind us …